


Pitiful

by hoosierbitch



Category: White Collar
Genre: Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Control, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-03
Updated: 2010-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosierbitch/pseuds/hoosierbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christ, Neal! Come already, if you want to so badly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pitiful

"Christ, Neal! Come already, if you want to so badly!"

Neal growled at him, and Peter laughed. He'd tied Neal's forearms together behind his back and put a mask on the lower half of his face. There was no way Neal could touch himself - and no way he could complain, either.

"Aw. Are you having a hard time?" He laughed at his own pun and then looked fondly at Neal's cock. It was a dark red, verging on purple. And he hadn't even had to put a cockring on him. Neal knew better than to come without Peter's hand on his dick.

He pulled Neal into a kneeling position on the bed, facing the headboard, spread his thighs until his cock and balls dangled freely between them, and then lay back down on the bed. He slid one of his legs between Neal's knees and scooted his foot up the bed until his leg was bent and his thigh was pressed against Neal's balls. "Go ahead," he coaxed. "I know you want to."

Neal sobbed and looked at him helplessly for a few seconds. Trying to inspire pity, or compassion - trying to get a helping hand. Peter pressed his thigh against Neal's balls until he screamed, his cock jerking, spitting out precum all over them.

"Now," he ordered, and Neal began rubbing himself against Peter's leg. The angle was horrible. Neal had no way to balance himself, and he had to twist himself painfully to get any friction on his cock. Every time he slipped, Peter caught him, but usually not before his cock or balls had slammed against his leg.

Peter idly stroked his cock as he watched Neal cry. "Oh, come on," he chided. Neal humped against him frantically for a few more seconds - mostly just pressing his balls against him, new spurts of precum dribbling out of him with each movement. When he overbalanced and landed on Peter's chest again, he sighed. "You just can't get anything right tonight, can you?"

Neal's moans sounded truly pitiful now. His cock was purple, angry, his balls drawn up tight between his legs. His dick and thighs and even Peter's stomach were soaked with his precum.

He took pity on the boy when he saw how hard he was crying. So he turned Neal around before he lay back down on the bed. A much better angle for Neal - he could rub the entire length of his cock against Peter's leg, and he did, frantically. Peter looked at his bound arms, his tight, hard ass, and stroked his dick until he came, spraying his come on the ropes binding Neal's arms together and on his ass, still humping forward.

Neal just kept going. It happened, sometimes. When he got too overwhelmed, too far gone, he couldn't come. He'd stay hard and dripping and in pain for hours, if Peter let him. Tonight, though, he was tired. So he sat up and unzipped the mask from around Neal's mouth. Then he pinched one of Neal's nipples with his left hand and wrapped his right around the head of Neal's dick.

Neal froze, and then screamed, hoarse and helpless. And then he covered Peter's palm in semen. Peter pinched his nipple until he started twitching, his cock softening, pitiful whimpers coming out of his swollen lips. Peter pinched it until he said "Please," soft and quiet. Then he lifted his hand to Neal's mouth and let him lick up his come like a good boy.


End file.
